
PR 45«fl 
II5F5 






UBR ABY OF CONGRESS 




01 



4 490 062 5 



E MILES OFF; 



R 4549 
806 

opy l FINGER POST^ 

a JFatce, 

IN THREE ACfS. 



BY TfDIBDIN, 

Author of Will for the Deed, Thirty -thousand, Cabinet, 
English Fleet, Family Quarrels, Valentine and Orson, 
11 Bundocani, Five Thousand a Year, Guilty or not 
Guilty, Sfc. $>;c. 



AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES 

HA Y-MA R KE T and NE W-Y R K. 



NEW-YORK : 

PUBLISHED BY D. LONGWOITH) 

St Hje Dramatic depositor)?, . 

Sha kspeare-Galkry. 
1S06. 



a 



\ 



?\ 



1 1, 



/ 



( 



PROLOGUE. 

WRITTEN BY G. COLMAN, ESQ. 

SOME hypercritic cries, in every age, 

* How rich the past, how poor the present stage J f 
So undertakers say, on corpses fed, 

* Ah there's no man of value till he's dead f 
Some self made Aristarchus ever sits, 
Like a judge Jejferies, over modern wits, 
Bullies upon the bench — his upright plan, 
First to abuse, then execute the man. 

Still thrives our stage, still seems there vigor {n't ; 
For you smile here, while cynics scowl in print, 
Plain proof you think, vjhate'er our stage may be, 
Such critics infinitely worse than we ; 
Yet far from us, one murmur to repeat, 
When liberal censure fills the judgment seat, 
We thank the hand that points, with gentle art, 
The wholesome lancet to some morbid part ; 
The butcher with his hatcliet, tis we hate 
Who kills where skilful surgeons amputate. 
If we give trash, as some few pertlings say, 
Why flocks an audience nightly to the play ? 
If we be found immoral in our scene, 
What does the lazv's restraint on drama J s mean ? 
To state the first they laugh at you alone — 
To state the last is libelling the throne* 

Truth is when impulse can be fairly roused, 
Smile, tear, or grin, by you our arts espoused. 
However pedants preach, you'll think those fools, 
Who laugh or cry by Aristotle's rules. 
And while a laugh or cry is to be had, 
Authors and actors can't be very bad- 

Oh ! may this doctrine be allow'd to-night, 
And be a lavgh — broad laugh — your chief delight ; 
Look not with eyes of critical disdain, 
But favor one zvho strives to entertain. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 





Hay 


-market. 


New-York. 


Squire Flail 


Mr. 


Chapman 


Mr. Tyler 


Sordid 




Grove 


Shapter 


Kalendar 




Fawcett 


Twaits 


£d ward 




Rae 


Robinson 


Luckless 




Decamp 


Manin 


Andrew 




Noble 


Hallam 


Sprit^ins 




Mathews 


H °gg 


O'Gimlet 




Den man 


Harwood 


11: urish 




Liston 


Darley 


Biack Bob 




Hatton 


Allen 


Dapper 




Menage 


Sau here 


Robert 




Parsloe 


Oiiff 


Thomas 




Johnston 


Chambers 


Dick 




Godwin, jr. 


Cliff 


Mrs. Prue 


Mrs. Powell 


Mrs. Simpson 


Mary Flail 




Mathews 


Miss White 


Jenny 




Gibbs 


Mrs Villiers 


Laura Luckless 


Miss Tyrer 


Miss DeJlinger 






FIVE MILES OFF; 

OR THE 

FINGER POST. 



A C T I. 

scene, a park lodge-^sun-riss. 

enter edward. 

Ediv WITH what exhilarating freshness does the 
breath of morn enliven the surrounding landscape, and 
how eagerly do the sweets of nature seem to start from 
their luxuriant beds, to hail the rising sun ; tis thus the 
cheering blaze of prosperity gladdens all, except the 
wretched few, who, like myself, are doomed to wither 
in the shade of poverty '. (knocks) who have I to blame? 
the man who unjustly surfers, has innate virtue to sus- 
tain his fortitude, while I— 

enter an drew from lodge. 

Well, my old foster father ! 

And. My poor young master— —and on foot too? 

Ediv. 1 have come hither in hopes — & 

And. Which wont help you on your way back— — 
your ill-used father 

Ediv. Mention him not— I scarcely have recovered 
the shock his death has given me. 

And. It was a bad day for his tenants, a woeful hour 
for his servants. 

Ediv. Yet they were happy— they did not offend 

b 2 



e FIVE MILES OFF, OR [ T . sibdik 

him ; but 1 had not the legacy of a parting blessing, 
nor the consolation of thinking I deserved one. 

And. As to what he left to others — well, well, mr. 
Sordid, his rich steward, may have a marble monument 
■when he dies, and fine veiseson it too, but 1 saw on 
your father's tombstone, somewhat that beats all the 
poetn I ever read. 

Edw His epitaph, already I am I the last to pay a 
tribute to his memory ? from what hand came it? 

And. From the heart, young master. His name was 
honored with a poorman's tear! the old curate said, 
that words may be cut in marble, and if such maiks as 
I saw, dont last here so long, it is because they are gone 
to be read in a better place. 

Edw When his son dies, if truth inscribe his epitaph, 
twill be the record of his follies. Has Sordid seized 
on all ? 

And. All. There were bonds and mortgages, which 
no one dreamt of till your father died. 

Edw My father has been as much misled as I have 
been ; tho his errors have been on the score of friendship 
——mine of foil). 

And. 1 hope you'll call old Sordid to account ? 

Edw. I'll to him instantly a short visit will suffice 

for what I'd settle with him then for one interview 

elsewhere, a; d after that a musket, Andrew. 

Ana bir! 

Ediv Nay, fear not — 1 have been my own enemy too 
long, and dare not turn my rage against myself, while 
my country has a foe to vent it on. [exit 

And Poor lad ! I know whose house he means to go 
to next, and there he'll find the door shut against him : 
ah, if he knew who a certain person was going to be 
married to, he'd—— bless my heart— why neighbor' > 

enter s p r i g g i n s , zvith a letter. 

Sprig. Not much of a nighbor, now it's a long 

■walk from our house to your's. I live with maister Kal- 
endar, the great star-gazing gentleman as gives his ad- 



act i] THE FINGER-FOST 7 

vice to all his neighbors, and makes all the clipses of the 
moon— —and I have brought a letter ■■ 

And From him ? 

Sprig. No, not from him. 

And. Well, but for me? 

Sprig. No, for young mr. Edward Frankland, in case 
he should call on you ; it be a secret who it comes from. 

And. And who does it come from ? 

Sprig- Why, that ^ou been't to mention — nor you 
mustn't tell him ab <ut some money in the inside on't, 
for fear he should lind it out — I was to give into his own 
hands, and as I is very particular, do you take it, and 
let him have it directly. 

And. A pretty messenger follow him, he's not 

two hundred yards off — he went that w»y. 

Sprig No, I cant stay, got to go a great way home 
through the forest — 1 know you'll give it him, because 
I should be so ashamed— 

And. Ashamed ? 

Sprig. Why, you see a friend as dont choose to be 
known has sent him money, and two or three of us lads 
have made a sort of description for him, and so have 
slipt some small matters of notes under the cover, be- 
cause if he knew we did it, he might be a little proud 

like, and wouldn't take it he's been a bit wild, but 

we mu^t help him for sake of his poor father. 

And. (taking tlie letter) Well my good lad, when 
you come to be poor, you'll- 

Sprig. Me poor ! I've forty pounds a year of my 
own, besides wagers. 

And. Ay, but if you should by any wonderful change 
of fortune, get rid of all your property, this money 
you have here given, will come back to you three times 
over. 

Sprig. Indeed ! why then it's almost a pity to send 
it— for, if we only give away a trifle in hopes of getting 
more than lawful interest, you may call it good nature, 
but I should call it swindling. 



» FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

And. Well, I'll give it him when he comes from old 
Sordid you know old Sordid. 

Sprig. I remember him when I was a boy; but I've 
never seen him since I left living here abouts — he turn'd 
my father out of a farm, once ; but— .farewel— you'll 
give the letter ? 

And. If you doubt me take it yourself. 

Sprig. No — it hurts gentlefolks' feelings to give them 
money with your own hands, and, 1 suppose, that's 
what makes some on 'em so 'fear'd to affront poor folks 
in the same way. For my part, 1 never fret about tri- 
fles, and if so be as a man who could afford it, were 
even to offer me a hundred pounds, I'd put up with it, 
sooner than pick a quarrel with any body. [exit 

And- Well said, John Spriggins ; the way thou hast 
contrived thy present to the young lad, adds to its value. 
Egad, 1 dont see why I shouldn't take the same advan- 
tage of young master — I've saved a trifle in his father's 
service. Go for a soldier ! why should he be ashamed 
to take the bounty of his friends— —I am sure, if there 
was enough here to buy a pair of colors, no ensign in the 
service could fight under a standard more honorably 
purchased. [exit 

scene, a room in Sordid's house, 
enter dapper and edward. 

Dap. Lud, sir J 

Edw. Nay, sir, but in a case so material to my inter- 
ests, 1 must and will be attended to. 

Dap. But, dear me, sir, w here's the use of my attend- 
ing to your declaration, when I can't put in an answer. 

Edw. Then call mr. Sordid— call your master— I'm 
determined to be heard. 

Dap. You must have strong lungs then to make him 
hear you — he went to the city yesterday, and will be 
returnable in the evening, unless mr. Flail, of Harvest- 
hall, lodges a detainer, and keeps him all night, for he 
is to call there in his way home. 



act i] THE FINGER-POST § 

Edw. I'll meet him there. 

Dap. Better not, sir, he's as busy as the first clay of 
May — he's going to see his son married to miss Mary. 

Ediv. To whom, sir ? 

Dap. Miss Mary Flail, sir, as fine a young woman as 
ever appeared before the king himself, at Westminster. 

Ediv. His son! married to Mary Flail — to mv Marv 
—1 never heard he had a son. 

Dap. Nor any body else, till within these few days, 
nor do I believe, speaking to the best of my knowledge, 
is the young gentleman yet aware that be has a father. 

Edzu. Why has such a circumstance been secret? 

Dap. Haven't received the necessary instructions to 
enable me to inform you, sir; all I know is, that master's 
gone to fetch the young gentleman, and 1 dare say their 
meeting will be as pleasant as the long vacation. 

Ediv. Then it is not only to beggar me, but to enrich 
a rival, the old pirate has plunder'd our estate. 

Dap. Not prepared at present to enter on his defence. 

Ediv. But, mr. Flail can never be so unjust. 

enter thomas, zvith Utter. 

Thorn. Mr. Dapper, here is a letter directed for— — 
lord bless him, there he is himself — its for your honor— 

(gives it i espectfuhy to Edward) 

Dap. Well, sir, you needn't fear to leave any message 
■with me— I'm acquainted with most of mr. Sordid's con- 
cerns. 

Ediv. Are you acquainted with his conscience ? 

Dap. Out of my department ; I'm his clerk, and ma- 
nage his law concerns ; as to conscience, that's quite ano- 
ther thing, and forms no part of our business — show the 
gem man down. [exit 

Edw. Will you give me leave to open this first ? 

Thorn. Surely, sir, I wish it may bring good news-- it 
comes from mr. FlaiFs, sir. 

Ediv. From Mary's father— tis his writing, (reads) 
1 Young man, every body knows his own business best, 
and it's my duty to provide well for my daughter. ]f 



10 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

you hadn't lost your fortune through your own fault, I 
might have made some allowance, but now, no offence 
I hope, if the girl marries somebody else — being all, at 
present, from yours — firebrand flail. P. S. I 
bear no malice, and when Mary's married, shall be glad 
to see you at Harvest hall — you are a choice fellow at 
hunting; and if any body says he sings a better song, 
I'm no judge— that's all. , -~ — The die is cast then— and 
the mansion of my fathers is preparing to receive my ri- 
val, in possesion of my home, my fortune, and my pro- 
mised bride. 

Thorn. Nevermind, sir; they may take possession of 
the house, and stick themselves up at church, but there 
isn't a cottager's wife will go to visit them. 

Edw. Deprived of fortune, I meant to have volunta- 
rily resigned all claim to her — but even the merit of such 
a sacrifice is denied me. Yet I will see her — she has no 
share in the unfeeling conduct of her father, and were 
mine yet living, even his anger would not doom me thus 
to surfer. [exeunt 



scene, a landscape—and a point formed by four roads 

meeting. 

enter sordid and sprig gins. 

Sor. Thank ye, friend, thank ye : and so I was going 
the wrong road ? 

Sprig. You're right. 

Sor, And pray where does that path go to? 

Sprig, No where, sir — it do always stay where it is; 
but if you go this way- • — 

Sor. I shall come to farmer Flail's. 

Sprig. No, sir, not to farmer Flail's. 

Sor. No ! why what a plague do you mean — I came 
one way — you bring me back from the second— you say 
the third is wrong and the fourth wont do. 

Sprig. No more it wont, sir. 

Sor. If you'll allow me neither east, west, north, nor 



act i] THE FINGER-POST II 

south, for horizontal progression, I must either sink or 
fly, and unless 1 get a balloon or a burying ground, 
may stay here till doomsday. 

Sprig. If you like it, sir; but I'll be dang'd if any of 
these roads will take you to farmer Flail's. 

Sor. Is he dead then ? 

Sprig. No, sir, but he have left off farming, and turn- 
ed squire — he have got a pack of hounds and visitors- 
have filled his cellar full of french wine — bottled off his 
best ale, and brought his daughter home from boarding- 
school. 

Sor. Indeed ! 

Sprig. Yes, she was a free- hear ted gir], and ha' 
danced wi' I, at our hop-harvest— but now she moves 
french minutes as stately as a waggon o* wheat-straw, 
and could no more milk one o' my cows, than 1 could 
play on one of her forty-piarnors. 

Sor. But if her father's rich, his daughter ought to be 
instructed in ail manner of modern accomplishments. 

Sprig, So she should, sir ; but not in ways of wicked- 
ness and roguery. When I open'd a long book of hers, 
they pretend to call music, I saw with my own eyes, it 
was to teach her the art of fingering. 

Sor, Blockhead i bumpkins shouldn't pretend to teach 
their betters. What's your name, friend ? 

Sprig. My name's John Spriggins, sir— I have forty 
pounds a-year, besides wagers — and without offence, sir, 
who may you be ? 

Sor. Simon Sordid, esq. You must have heard of 
me, or you're an ignoramus. 

Sprig. Oh, this is mr. Sordid (aside) . Umph, yes, 
sir, I be ignoramus, sure enough ; but I do know my 
way out o' this pleace, without either a balloon or bury- 
ing ground, and as you be so woundy clever, I dare say 
you can find yourn. 

Soi'. Not without assistance; you promis'd to show me. 

Sprig. Y"es, sir ; but bumpkins shouldn't pretend to> 
teach their betters — so [ wish you a pleasant walk : here 
be only four roads to choose, and if you take but one at 



12 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdikt 

a time, its nineteen to nothing, but you'll find the right 
way without axing any body, (going J 

Sor. What an inhuman clodhopper ! 

Sprig, (returns J I forgot to say, sir, that there's Gaf- 
fer Goreham's bull has a knack o' running at folks, and 
black Bob, brother to him as hangs in chains yonder, do 
swear vengeance on all as do pass this here way. 

Sor, Any thing else ? 

Sprig, Only a line dark cloud over head, and I ha* 

talk'd mysel too dry, to stand here to get wet for any 

body [exit 

Sor. A mad bull ! a robbery ! and a thunderstorm ! 
curse all cross roads and stage-coachmen ! to leave me at 
the mercy of Black Bob and his brother; for here they 
certainly come, and one of them bringing the gibbet 
with him. [exit. 

enter flourish and o'gimlet, carrying afinger-pGst 

O'Gim. There's a delightful direction-post, made by 
me, mr. O'Gimlet. 

Flou. And beautified by me, Solomon Flourish. 

O'Gim. Which is to stand here, and point to four 
roads at once, like the picture of three-finger'd Jack. 
Wait until [ move the stone turf that covers the hole { 
dug for it; there, down with it. (they fix it) 

Flou. Verily, friend, it is already too low ; the heads 
of the passengers will come bump against it, and the fin- 
gers thereof will poke out the eyes of all who look there- 
upon. 

O'Gim. And haven't I made the top loose, honey, 
that, if you tip it the least touch, it gets out of the way 
before you can say chips. 

Flou. (putting it round J Thou hast made it like un- 
to a turnstile ! 

O'Gim. To be sure. Would you have a poor tired 
foot passenger on horseback, walk about a post to read 
his way, when he may twirl it round as azy as nothing, 
to which of the four roads he plases. 

Flou. And from which every puff of wind will turn it, 
as it were a weathercock. 



act i] THE FINGER-POST 13 

O'Gim. If your tongue wags about weathercocks, I'll 
put a spoke in the wheel of it. You're not at home, 
now, mr. Flourish, talking about the clearness of paint 
and provisions ; you may look big among little children, 
and tread upon every beadle in the parish ; but you dont 
humbug mr. O'Gimlet. 

Flou Thou art a stupid mortal. 

O'Gim. No more a mortal than yourself. I was bom 
in the family bed-room, my father made me his foreman 
when I was a boy ; gave me a hammer down upon the 
nail, and taught me the use of a saw, before I hadcut my 
teeth. 

Flou. Have I not also been a pains taking man ? 

O'Gim. Yes, and a panes-breaking man too. You're 
the village glazier, and crack bushels of windows for the 
benefit of trade. 

Flou. Have I not painted every sign in the village? 
where has thou seen a better dun cow than I have made? 

O'Gim. Guy of Warwick never kilt a dun cow more 
completely ; — I've seen you make a bull too ; for when 
you was ax'd to paint the arms of man, you stuck up the 
three legs. 

Flou. Verily, friend, the parish will not put up with 
this treatment of one of its respectable inhabitants. 

O'Gim. A parish that puts up your signs, will put up 
any thing — so pay me on the spot for this job, or I'll let 
a few of your glass tricks be seen through, for the gcocl 
of the corporation. — There, (shozvs a iong bill) there's 
a few items to begin with. 

Flou. It should begin with imprimis. 

O'Gim Oh, you'll put priming enough in your own 
bill, mr. Painter. 

Flou. (reads) c Item, a fatfge post — it'etii, timber for 
ditto— item, screws -item, three days and a quarter work 
—and three hundred long nails,' — Three hundred ! 

O'Gim. To be sure ; I couldn't make thzjingers with- 
out nails, you know, honey. 

Flou. ' Glue '.'—that article is charged more than all. 
thereat, friend. 

s 



14 



FIVE iMILES OFF, OR [t. dibdi* 



O^Gim. All owing to the high price of putty — Pm fol- 
lowing your own example. Jobs come so seldom, that, 
if it wasn't for a bit of glue, things would never be able 
to stick together at all at all. 

FLou. VVell ; make this thing fast, (turning it round) 
or I'll not pay thee one farthing. 

O'Gim. "You may make it fast yourself. 

Flou. 1 have not the craft. 

O'Gim. Oh, you've craft enough ; so take it to your 
own house; and, if you dont make it fast there, it will 
be the best used person in the family. [exit 

Flcn. It appertaineth not unto my business to set it 
right — he hath left it pointing to the paths of error ; and 
1 will bear witness against him, when the traveller he 
may lead astray, shall seek redress from the men of wigs 
and long suits, whoare termed lawyers; who perplex us 
like the labyrinths of the little person called Cupid, in- 
to whose clutches I was once betrayed. 

SONG. 



Yea, I fell in the pit of love, 

With a ti turn ti. 
The spirit then began to move 

With a ti turn tt« 
Quoth I, ' fair maiden, ne'er deride, 
For verily, when thou'rt my bride, 
JLo, I will cleave unto thv side. 

With a ti turn ti.' 

' Behold,' said Ruth, ' there is a grove 

With a ti turn ti. 

Where birds, call'd turtles, coo and love 

With ati lum ti.' 

Lo ! then I thought her truly mine ; 

13ut when of love she gave the sign, 

She proved a cruel Phi— lis — tine, 

With a ti turn ti. 



act i] THE FINGER-POST 15 

For she another suitor had, 

With a ti turn ti. 
Profanely call'd a flashy lad 

With a ti turn ti. 
And when I reacht the grove assign'd 
He came, before I Ruth could find, 
And kick'd me ruth — less — ly behind 

With a toe turn ti. 

[exit 

re-enter sordid. 
Sor. I've done it ; I'm a wise man : I have hid my 
money beyond yon clump. There are certain bonds, 
mortgages, and securities, too— —how came I by them ? 
no matter ; I've as much right to 'em as a highwayman, 
and wont be robbed. A pretty journey I've had for 
nothing ! can't find my son, so 1 have advertised him. 
Had the rogue known he had a rich father, he'd not have 
run away. What's here ? why they have put up a guide. 
(reads)'' To Harvest hall, Jive miles* Oh, 1 can man- 
age that pretty well. This post will point out the spot, 
when I return for my treasure in the morning : I've kept 
a trifle about me, in gold, silver and paper, to prevent ill 
usage; and, if I am robb'd, it shall only be of an odd- 
looking one pound note, a suspicious seven shilling piece, 
and a Brummagem six-pence. {exit 

enter black bob, in a great-coat. 

Bob. That man talkt of money ; I'll follow him.— — 
What's this ? a road-post ? I took it for something else. 
What a hard thing it is a man can't begin his daily oc- 
cupation, without being put in mind of what will be the 
end of it ! [exit after Sordid 

enter mary flail and jenny. 
Jen. Now doey, miss Mary, blesse, doey come on a 
bit vaster ; we shall never get home ; and I be all over 
Rightfulness and consternation, for vear o'these vootpads 
and highway robberies, that do walk about all night, 
and theie be put in the newspapers every morning. 



16 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

Mary. There's no cause for fear, Jenny ; and I must 
rest a moment, {sits on a bank) 

Jen. Now doan'tye go to stop, whatever ye do. If we 
be overtaken here by strange men, there'll be desparte 
work, I promise ee. 

Mary. I haven't much to lose, and should make no 
resistance. 

Jenny. No more haven't I, miss, except this trifling 
token ; and, if they offerd to touch that, I be but a weak 
girl, but they should have all the assistance 1 could gi, I 
warrant 'em. 

Mary. Is it a love token, Jenny ? 

Jen. I do hope it be, miss ; and I'm sure you dont 
think there is anv harm in love tokens, or you would ne- 
ver have ventur'd out so far without your vather's know- 
ing it, at this time o'night. 

Mary. Perhaps you think me to blame, Jenny? 

Jen. Not at all for that, miss ; to be sure, when I were 
at home, I couldn't stir a voot without vather's leave; 
and as he never would give it me, I staid at home, like 
a dutiful child. 

Mary. Could you never get an opportunity ? 

Jen. No, miss, a poor cottage like ours, had but one 
door to't — now, your father's, squire Flail's fine hall, ha' 
got so many, there's hardly finding the way in or out 
for 'em. 

Mary. I was much happier before my father was so 
rich ; and I liked the company of our honest neighbors, 
better than all the gentlemen who now pay court to us. 

Jen. So did I, miss. The young men of our village 
did use to do their best to entertain a young woman at a 
fair or a feast ; but gentlemen do send their sweethearts 
away from the table along wi' the cloth, that they may 
keep all the good things a'ter dinner to themselves ; and 
yet your sweetheart was a gentleman too. 

Mary. And is so stili, by birth. Imprudent Edward! 
Low early in life to have effected his ruin ! 

Jen. He had better have ruin'd any body else! 

Mary. If my father had not sanctioned our meetings, 






act i] THE FINGER-POST 17 

when we were poor, and Edward thesupposetl heir to his 
father's wealth, I shouldn't have ventured this act of dis- 
obedience. I'm sorry we didn't see him ! 

Jen. Never mind, miss, my sweetheart, John Sprig- 
gins, lias given the letter, long afore this. 

Mary. As it contain'd money, to spare his feelings, I 
didn't say from whom it came. 

Jen. 1 was afraid o'that, miss ; and, thinking that, in 
all matters of true love and courtship, there ought never 
to be no deceit; and that nothing ought to be done that 
nobody shouldn't be ashamed on, why, 1 — 1 — thought — 

Alary, {with apprehension) You thought 1 well ! 

——and——— 

Jen. I put in a bit of a note, which, as he knows 1 
can't write, he'll never inspect whence it came. 

Mary. Worse and worse ! — imprudent girl ! — who 
wrote it ? 

Jen. Nobody as knows its meaning. Cousin Rem- 
nant, the tailor, be a poet, and famous for what he do 
call Ids measures, and distiches, and hemstiches ; so I 
axd'n to write down only three lines, as 1 had mad out 
o'mv own head. 

Mary. Three lines! 

Jenny. Yes — he said three lines are call'd a driblet : 
so he wrote'n, and I slipt'n into the paper that had the 
blank notes in un. 

Mary. Do you remember them ? 

Jen. Yes, miss. 

' When secret love does thus prevail, 

* Remember thereby hangs a tale — 

* Your humble servant, Mary Flail.' 

Mary. Mary Flail! why, you're a ridiculous- — I — 
my very name at the bottom, too ! 

Jenny. No, miss; I told un there must be no name at 
the bottom ; so he put two lines a'ter that, (a noise heard) 

Alary. Hark ! some one is making his way through 
the thicket. Come, Jenny ; how can you loiter here ; 
we shall be insulted. 

s 2 



18 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

Jen. I told ee how 'twould be, miss ; but there's no 
cause for taar, you know ; so, pray, do stop, and hear 
the rest of my cousin's poetry. 

Mary. Nonsense ! we are followed. Come, girl, come. 

[runs off 

Jen. There, that comes o'fme talking. When danger 
be at a distance, volks laugh at 'n ; for my part, I ha' 
got more courage than to run away at my own shadow. 

1 dare say it be only a (going to look, immediately 

returns') Oh, missi stop, for 1 1 — we shall be robb'd — 

we shall be kill'd — we shall be oh, dear, dear, dear, 

miss Mary! [exit, bawling 

reenter black bob. 

Bob, I thought I heard the squall of a woman. I fear 
some one is poaching on my manor ; it must be some 
new hand ; for gemmen footpads of the old school have 
too much honor to break into one another's walks.— 
Let's see— i made but a poor prize of that old traveller; 
and this unlucky greatcoat may happen to betray me. I'll 
not venture to the village in't. The old man look'd 
plaguy hard at it— if he had been a young one, I'd have 
knock'd him down. I'll leave the coat here, (throws it 
over the jinger-post) I have taken one pound, seven 
shillings, and sixpence — lor which I must leave my coat 
behind me: it's rather hard ; and, if times dont alter for 
the better, I shall begin to think a man may as well live 
honestly, if it's only for the sake of his own interest. 

END OF THE FIRST ACT, 



ACT II. 

scene continues, 
enter luckless (shabbily genteel) 

Luck. I thought I saw some one to ask the way of— 
(takes out a newspaper) Let me see — (reads) * If Law 



act ii] THE FINGER-POST 19 

rence Luckless, formerly of ' ay, my native place, 

sure enough \ will apply to Firebrand Flail, esquire, 

or' Harvest-hall, he will hear of something to his advan- 
tage.' It's high time I should — I've had my share of 
disadvantages ; but, hang despair ! it's as shabby as my 
own appearance. I have just made my dinner and my 
toilet, by the road-side — brushed up my best— yes, my 
very best coat! and want nothing but a shower of rain to 
blacken my hat: — and then to the Hall, like a gentle- 
man, (going, sees the post, with the coat on it) Eh ! 
what the devil's that? a thief, or a scare-crow ? 

enter edward. 

Edw. Neither, my boy ; but an old friend, who is 
equally glad and surprised to meet you. 

Luck, if I wasn't afraid of making one of my usual 
blunders, I'd swear, that of all other men in the world, 
you were my once merry companion, Edward. 

Edw. You may swear it with a safe conscience. I 
knew you at a distance, by your walk, which, like your 
ideas, is never in a straight line. I could not be mista- 
ken, though I had so little light to see you by. 

Luck, (looking at his dress) Why, you have seen me 
in a better light than this, 1 confess, Ned ; however, you 
are very little altered — you seem to be as ready to ac-? 
knowledge a distrest friend as ever you were. 

Edw. Heaven forbid I should be otherwise I but I shall 
be truly sorry if you are distrest ; I hope you dont want 
much assistance. 

Luck. Indeed ! why ? 

Edw. Because, pshaw I because it would not be in my 
power to afford it you. 

Luck. No ! the heir of a fine estate ; the life and soul 
of all your acquaintance ; favorite of the lasses — any of 
the lads ; darling of the tenants; and best cricket player 
in Christendom ! 

Edw. As the poet says — ' I cannot but remember such 
things were, and were most dear to me ;' but, now I'm 
ruin'd — ruin'd by the artifice of my late father's steward, 



2» FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

and who is now bis sole executor. 

Luck. Well, but how * 

Edw. Guilty of irregularities, which he in private 
abetted, 1 became so much his dependent for support 
and secrecy, that he was, at length, enabled to alienate 
me from my father's affection. 

Luck. But — in your father's dying moments— 

Edw. I was artfully kept from him — was disinherited 
—but, damn the money — had 1 but seen my father— 

Luck. Bear up, my boy, and wish with me, that some 
quick claw'd devil may fiy away with old Sordid ; 
wherever he is, may this spot prove the place of his pun- 
ishment, and may his ill-gotten goods be transferred to 
the lawful owner, as unexpectedly as he obtained them. 

Edzv. Rather let me blame my own want of confi- 
dence in a parent. If you wouldn't laugh at my mo- 
rality, 1 would say, happy is the child, who, by acknow- 
ledging a first failing, avoids the necessity of a thousand 
more, to keep that one a secret. 

Luck. For my part, I never knew a parent to confess 
my failings too ; if I had, there'd have been plenty to 
have acknowledged ; but I keep up my spirits, and, 
though 1 was unlucky before I was born, I dont remem- 
ber that I cried a bit the more for it. Have you no mo- 
ney ? 

Edw. None that I can call my own. 

Luck. Can't you borrow ? 

Edzv. No, for 1 know not when I can repay. 

Luck. Which is the very reason why some people do 
borrow. 

Edw. It's not the loss of wealth that I regret, but the 
artful viper, in the person of his son, would deprive me 
of my love. 

Luck. Has he a son ? 

Edw. One never owned till now. He is to marry the 
girl who — but I must hasten to return the contents of 
this letter, which her disinterested affection would have 
deceived me into accepting. 

Luck. What, you hare money, then? 

Edw. Yes, and it has been most curiously conveyed 



act ii] THE FINGER-POST 21 

to me — but I have pride, also ; an honest pride, which, 
while I have youth and strength, forbids me to appropri- 
ate to my own use, the hard earn'd savings of those who 
may want them in their old age, or to profit by the art' 
less attachment of an inexperienced female; but, come, 
accompany me to Harvest-hall. 

Luck. The very place I'm going to. I'll tell you a 
few of my adventures on the road, and if what I am 
promised there to my advantage, can be thrown into 
your scale, you shall share it, or take it all and welcome. 

{rain heard) 

Ediv. You're a generous lad ; let's see what way are 
we in. (looking rouud) 

Luck. In a way to be wet through, if we dont make 
haste. 

Ediv. Come along, then, (going) 

Luck. Not that path — look here, here's a guide for the 
road, and a coat for the weather. 

Ediv. No matter for the guide — I know the road lies 
here. 

Luck. Does it? why, then the post lies here ; for look 
—as for this coat 

Edw. Come ; it has been hung to dry by some one. 

Luck. Who will thank me for taking it out of the 
wet. I've been curst unlucky all my life, and never 
found a prize before, (takes it down : screams are heard) 

Edzu. The voices of women in danger !— follow me, 
friend. [exit 

Luck, (as he puts on the coat) That I will. Why, 
Edward ? — —which road has he taken? no matter; for 
when a female wants assistance, the devil take him who 
can't find the way without a finger-post. 

[exit, after Edward 

scene, a hall at squire Flail's. 
enter mrs. prudence and flail. 

Mrs. Prue. It's to no purpose being angry. I tell you 
she has gone out, mr. Flail. 



22 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t.dibdin 

Flail. Gone out, cousin Prue ? my daughter gone out, 
without my leave, or your company ? 

Mrs. Prue. Ay, cousin ; and heaven knows where she 
is gone : nay, if 1 didn't scorn to carry tales, I could tell 
you who's gone with her. 

Flail. Not that spendthrift, Edward, I hope? if the 
hussey has dared — 

Mrs. Prue. No, no ; trust to my care for that ; Jane 
has gone with her — the wench you have given her as 
own maid— own maia indeed ! there was no such thing 
in the family, when 1 had the care of it. 

Flail. Jt gets plaguy late — I'll go look for her — I ex- 
pect old Sordid and his son every moment — I think they 
might have come a little earlier. 

Kal. {without) Wind N. E. by north. 

Mrs. Prue. Here's neighbor Kalendar. 

Flail. With some of his impertinent advice, I sup- 
pose ; 1 remember the fellow when he hadn't a shilling. 

Mrs. Prue. Hush ! or he may remember the same 
of you. 

Flail. When he lived by making almanacks, and 
when you turn'd up your nose at him. 

Mrs. Prue. Ay, he was poor then, but now 

enter kalendar. 

Kal. Here's alteration in the weather !—— ah ! mrs. 
Prue ? how do, Prue ? 

Mrs. Prue. Prue ! sir, I am——— 

Kal Rather frosty this evening — old Firebrand, your 
fist ; the barometer of fortune has risen with us both, 
but shouldn't alter either of us. 

Flail. No; you'll be a walking weather-glass as long 
as you live. 

Kal. Better that than be a weather-cock, eh! mrs. 
Prue ; it's time the mercury in our veins should stick at 
temparate. 

Mrs. Prue. It may with elderly people, mr. Kalen- 
dar ; but I shall go and see if that thoughtless girl is 
returned. O ! mr. K. for all your cold looks, there was 
3 time when you little thought of change. [exit 



act ii] THE FINGER-POST 23 

Kal, Change ! that was when I hadn't a guinea ; but, 
come, friend flail, I want to counsel you — I fear you've 
had bad advisers. 

Flail, Never took any advice but my own. 

Knl. That's just what I mean. 

Flail. Sir, I've money in my pocket — good tenants 
on my land — a line girl of a daughter— -and a delightful 
pack of hounds -then what do I want with advice? 

Kal. To learn how to spend your money — manage 
your tenants— marry your daughter — and choose friends 
to go a hunting with. 

Flail. VV ho s to teach me ? 

Kal. Vox stellar urn—study the stars— do you take in 
my new almanack ? 

Flail. Not I ; I was a farmer twenty years, and never 
knew one right in my life; they always snow when they 
should rain, and if they promise sun shine, they make 
such thundering mistakes, that all the beer in the cellar 
gets sour'd by 'em. 

Kal. There are times and seasons for all things ;--I 
come to speak of your daughter. 

Flail. She shall marry whom I please; and what says 
your almanack to that, old Weather-wise ? 

Kal. Why it says that girls should be transplanted 
from the garden of good education- 

Flail. 1 gave ninety pounds a year. 

Kal. To be grafted on some healthy stock— 

Flail. Well, and dont I say—— 

Kal. While those, who from the hot beds of false re- 
finement—— 

Flail. Whew! come down from your cabbage stalks, 
and dont compare my family to sprouts and parsly beds; 
be she girl, or be she garden-stuff, she marries the son 
of old Sordid. 

Kal. Which is wedding Virgo to Capricorn. 

Flail. Now he's got out of the ground into the skies — 
didn't you say just now, there were seasons for every 
thing? 

Kal. Truly ! — in childhood, to get wisdom and whip- 



24 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdi* 

ping — in youth, sow wild oats — in manhood, marry ; 
and meet with other misfortunes — in old age— 

Flail. We're too wise to miss the tide, by looking at the 
moon. 

Kal. That's a hit at my old trade; never mind— I 
come of a family who— 

Flail Now for their whole chronology; I knew but 
two of your forefathers, and they 

Kal. Resided here before 1 was born, which happen- 
ed on new-year's day, one thousand seven hundred and 
nfty-five,# sixteen minutes and a half past three in the 
morning, as per grandmother's gold watch, then lying 
on a claw table in a corner of the room. 

Flail. Psha ! Pve heard that the first of your family 
came into this country — 

Kal. Anno twelve hundred and fifty-two, at the very 
time when Roger Bacon invented the magic lanthorn. 

Flail. Ay, they carried it about, I suppose, and taught 
their children the art of magnifying. 

Kal. Sir, my ancestors were never obliged to the fam- 
ily of the Flails, even for a thrashing. 

Flail. And as for yourself — 

Kal. I was sent to school in the year sixty-three— 
made prodigious progress in every thing they didn't 
wish me to learn — was 'prenticed to a spectacle-grinder 
in sixty-nine, where I learn'd to make almanacks, and 
predicted every thing but my own good luck, till a dis- 
tant relation came from abroad, with more money than 
health, who was so overjoyed at my foreboding him a 
long life, that he died directly and left me every shilling. 

Flail. And now you give advice grata"*. 

Kal. I do ; and would have you give your daughter 
where you promised her — you've had your fortunate 
planet as well as me, and should remember that liberal- 
ity is a sun-beam which ought never to be eclipsed by 
avarice. 

Flail. Sir, I seorn to reflect on any body, but 

Kal. I know you do— and while you refuse to shale 
with others, the light which is only reflected on yourself, 
your lucky star will dwindle to a rush-light, and, when 



act ii] THE FINGER-POST 25 

the extinguisher of old Time puts you out, you'll eva- 
porate in smoke, old Firebrand. 

Flail. Put me out, sir 1 I'll put you 

Kal. Into any thing but a passion ; look, yonder's 
your daughter, all agitation, like a pond before rain ;— • 
bless me ! (looking at his ivatch) Venus and Jupiter are 
on the point of a conjunction ; I'll just take an observa- 
tion through the next room window, and be back in a 
twinkling. 

Flail. Take care, lest in making your observations, 
you make some of your usual errors. 

Kal. I understand you ; you're always twitting me 
with experimental mistakes — such as flying electrical 
kites in a thunderstorm — and giving such a red-hot focus 
to the school-master's spectacles, that they set his wig 
on fire and what then ? it's natural to make mis- 
takes in anv art, and when the intention is not erroneous, 
he's a plaguy ill-natur'd fellow who wont make allow- 
ance for 'em. [exit 

Flail. Let a parent act as honestly as he may, folks 
wiil blame him ; I dare not wed my daughter to a 
spendthrift, nor will 1 force her to marry where she has 
no liking ; and, if Sordid's son should not prove to be 
the man I take him for — perhaps—but I wont be taik'd 
out of my reason, for people, never know the value of 
indulgence half so well as when it comes from authority 
that knows how to make itseif respected. 

enter mary and edward. 

Mary, (running to her father) Oh I my dear father, 
such an escapel I owe my life, nay more, perhaps, to 
the gallantry of Edward. 

Flail. Gallantry ! hark'ye, sir, if you have served 
my daughter, I thank you, and so we part friends. 

(leads M ary to the other side) 

Mary He saved me from a ruffian, who — 

Flail. How came you from home ? 

Mary. I was to blame to go without your knowledge 
— but— I- -I meant no harm. 

c 



*<S FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdik 

Mail Perhaps not ; but more mischief comes of 
meaning no harm than you're aware of ; go-- and when 
1 have ihank'U this young gentleman for his gallantry as 
you call it, 1 shall have a word or two for your ear ; go, 
I say. 

Mary. Sir, you shall command my duty and obedi- 
ence ; but there is a sentiment of gratitude which that 
young man will ever have a right to. {exit Mary 

Edzv. And one kind sentiment from Mary will com- 
pensate the cruelty of all the world. 

Flail. And my cruelly among the rest; I suppose 
you took on me as a ilintv-hearted father—my daughter 
as fair game— and yourself as the only poacher who has 
a right to steal her from me, 

Edw. You are. mistaken, sir, I would neither sully 
her honor nor my own, by any action that would'nt 
bear the light. As the girl of my heart, I adore her — 
as her father, I reverence you — but for myself, I should 
be a hypocrite were I to say otherwise than that, when 
I have just risk'd my life in her defence, I think I am, 
at least, entitled to good manners for my pains, {going) 

Flail. Good manners, sir ! I'm not to be taught good 
manners by any one, much less by a— ay, sir, you may 
look big, but— 

Edw. Good day, sir ; use your daughter kindly ; mar- 
ry her to whom you please, but make her happy and 
I'll forgive you all. 

Flail. I wont be forgiven — 1 never deserved to be for- 
given — I'll prove it in your case. I had a daughter, and 
you had a fortune ; I have my daughter still, have ta- 
ken care of her, improved her, and made her worth her 
weight in gold, a good-for-nothing hussey ! while you — 

Edw Have acted with imprudence, lost my fortune, 
and have been alternately the dupe of others, and the 
enemy of myself. 

Flail. Then how dare you talk of forgiving me. — When 
vou speak reason, and know how to hold your tongue, 
I'll listen to you ; nay more— as old Sordid and his son 
haven't yet made their appearance according to appoint- 



act n] THE FrNGER-POST *T 

ment, I'll tell you this, my daughter shant marry till— 

Edzv, Dear ^ir ! 

Flail. Till to morrow morning; and if, by that time, 
you can prove to me that you possess a freehold tene- 
mant , one article of live stock, or a single acre of iand 
within six miles of this house, you shall be the man 
yourself. 

Edzv. You know, sir, it is impossible; you know I 
have neither house, land, n->r means 

Flail. And are yet so mad as to expect I will match 
you with my daughter ; sirrah 1 sirrah ! before young 
folks accuse fathers and grandfathers of cruelty and hold 
'em up to ridicule in stage plays and romances, they 
should look at home, and think on the greater cruelty 
of exposing an honest man's child to suifering and po- 
verty for the sake of their own selfish gratification, \_exit 

Edzv. His arguments are not to be opposed, and I 
should be a scoundrel were 1 to proceed. What's to be 
done ?— resign her to a lival ? — no ! — a house and land 
before to-morrow — oh, had I time, I'd overcome all 
obstacles > and ravish from fortune by industry and per- 
severence, the minor gifts of wealth, as mere steps to the 
prize I aim at— but now tis impossible. 

re- enter kalendar. 

Kal What's impossible to a lover ?— if he had ordered 
you on an errand to Abyssinia, or bid you fetch a glass 
of spring-water from the source of the Nile, you'd have 
hired horses, and been off directly ; but when he only 
asks what's done eveiy day, 

Edzv. Sir! 

Kal. Why, I've heard all ; and, from friendship for 
your poor old father, should like to serve you, and 
chouse old Sordid Bless my soul ! has nobody got a 
little freehold to dispose of ? 

Edzv. I thought you saw no difficuly ? 

Kal. None but what I can— you're sure you cant buy one f 

Edzv. Should people without money buy estates ; 

Kal. People without money have most occasion for 



28 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

'em. Stay, I think I have it ; old Flail has affronted me ; 
spoken disrepectfully of my forefathers ; abused my al- 
manack ; slighted my advice, and ridiculed my predic- 
tions ; but I'll be even with him. You shall take him at 
his word, force him to give you his daughter's hand, and 
obtain his consent against his inclination. 

Edw. This is a paradox ! 

Kal. I deal in paradoxes. Come home with me, and 
I'll make it as clear to you as the sun in his meridian. 

Edtv. Remember, he has a bosom of flint. 

Kal. Then do you have a heart of steel, and my brain 
shall be the tinder-box, to light a match he little dreams 
of. Come, it would be hard indeed, if 1 who have 
made a model of the moon, added stars to the orrery, 
and furnisht fine weather to the whole country, couldn't 
predict the end of an affair like this. I had a sweetheart 
myself once, and for her sake would have conquer'd ten 
times your difficulties. Oh, those were happy times, 
when 1 dreaded no storms but in love's almanack, when 
I set down frowns for foul weather, smiles for sun shine, 
and every billet-doux for a red-letter day [exeunt 



scene, Kalendar's study and library. 

an orrery, telescopes, electrical apparatus, chairs, fyc. 

spriggins awe? jenny discovered. 

Jen. Lord, now, mr. Spriggins, if any of the folks at 
our house knew I was here, at your master's, mr. Kalen- 
dar's, what would they say to it ? 

Sprig. Why, they'd say as you corned a courting to 
me, or else as you wanted your fortin told by him. 

Jen. I'm sure I only came to ask advice about poor 
young mistress ; she'll be lock'd up, and fed upon bread 
and water, if she dont marry the strange young man 
that's expected. 

Sprig, Well, and how's my master to help that ? 



act n] THE FINGER-POST 20 

Jen. Why, can't he cast some of their nativities, and 
look through a sagnifying-glass, and tell about stars and 
iiery dragons. 

Sprig. A s%nifying-glass ! — a horoscope, you mean. 
Lord help you! why, you be as ignorant as you be pret- 
ty- 

Jen. Yes; I'm very ignorant. Are these all his books? 

Sprig. Yes : he do know what's o'clock all over ihe 
■world ; geography be is hobby-horse ; and when he s 
once up, iie rides like a witch on a broomstaff. 

Jen. Mercy on us ! and what's that ? (pointing to the 
orrery) 

Sprig. That's a horrary— that's Jupiter and his set o' 
ligfits—' and Satan and Lucifer, and the rest of the hea- 
venly bodies. 

Jen I thought Venus was a heavenly body. 

Sp}ig. Yes; and this shows ail her motions; and this 
is a comet ; and these suns be all moons. 

Jen (going to the electrical machine) And what's 
this ? — be this music ? 

Sprig. No; dont touch that ; if you turn that handle 
round, you'll do mischief — it be put there to be ready 
against mr. Roundabout, the gouty tax-gatherer comes 
to be collectrified. 

Jen. Never mind — is the old gentleman coming up? 

Sgrig. No ; but if you meddle with that infer'naj ma- 
chine, you may bring the old gentleman up in good ear- 
nest. 

Jen. Mercy on us ! and so these are your masters tools 
to tell fortunes with. 

Sprig. No ; this is the way to tell fortunes— give 
me your hand. 

Jen. La, mr. Spriggins 1 

Sprig. Let me see— ay, you'll be married to a tall- 
thin young man, about my age. 

Jen. Indeed ! 

Sprig. Yes ; you will marry a batchelor ; and your 
first husband will live to have two wives. 

Jen. What— at one time f 

c 2 



30 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

Sprig. Oh, no. 

Jen. No! why, then, I dont think you understand 
fortune-telling at all. 1 have been told better ; and I 
would not die and leave the best husband in England, 
if I could help it. 

Sprig. Then you shall marry me. I've forty pounds 
a-year, besides wagers ; and, if master would put us into 
a new public-house, by gemini, we'd set up the seven 
signs of the zodizvac. 

Jen. There's too many signs in the village already ; 
the half moon's never full, and there's nobody in the 
sun from morning till night. 

Sprig. Well ; and, if so be as — (Jenny lets fall a baro- 
meter, which breaks) there, you've broke one of the best 
weather-glasses — there'll be a fine storm when master 
comes home— he'll be all over in a constellation. 

Jen, Twas all along o' you : what did you talk such 
nonsense to me for— about seven signs at one public 
house ? 

Kal. {without) What the devil are you all at there ? 

Jen. O, dear ! o dear ! what shall 1 do r I dare not 
face him ; I shall be kill'd! 

Sprig. Run in here, and I'll take the fault all on my- 
self, (puts her in a closet) 

enter kalendar, followed by edward. 

Kal. Here's a chaos! hey-day! who has done this ? 

Sprig. Not Jenny, sir— it were I, sir. I wear look- 
ing for the great bear, sir ; and, when 1 saw you coming, 
I were so frightful o' your being angry, that I knockt 
un over, sir. 

Kal. Out of my sight, you plague of Egypt. 

Sprig. Dear, dear, how will Jane get out of the clo- 
set ! [aside and exit 

Kal Every thing in confusion ; not a planet in it's 
orbit ; the globe upset ; the glass fallen— and I shall be 
ruined. There, I must put my stars out of their reach. 



act n] TH£ FINGER-POST 31 

(stands on a chair, and puts the orrery on a high shelf) 
i think nobody will get at that again. 

Edw. Unless they stand in that high chair, as you 
did. 

Kal. I'll put that in its place too. {puts the chair in a 
recess, behind a curtain, and fixes a chain to it, from the 
electrical machine) There, lhat chair is charged with 
electric fluid; and, if any one touches thai, a single turn 
of this handle will tickle their tobies. John Spriggins I 

enter spriggins. 

Sprig. I be here, sir. 

Kal, Run to O'Gimlet, the carpenter, and bid him 
make haste, where 1 told him, and do you go and help 
him. 

Sprig. Yes, sir. [exit 

Kal And, John ! 

Sprig, (re-entering) Yes, sir. 

Kal. Take Flourish, the painter, in your hand, and 
bid 'em both make haste. 

Sprig. Yes, sir. Dear, dear, how will Jane get out 
of the closet. [exit 

Kal. And, Spriggins I — 

re-enter spriggins. 

You dont know of any body that has a little freehold to 
part with ? 

Sprig. Vreehold ! no, sir! I have forty pounds a-year, 
besides wagers ; but 

Kal. Dont stand chatter'ng there. [exit Spriggins 
Now, ar'nt you all impatience to know what I'm about. 
{to Edward,) 

Edzv. Rather anxious, 1 confess. 

Kal. You observed, that, in our transit hither, I 
touch'd at the carpenter's, bricklayer's, and painter's? 

Edw, I dont see how that relates to me. 

Kal. No J did you never hear of my book upon forest 
charters, and rights of common? (reaches a folio J 



32 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 

Ediv. No, sir ; and, at a time like this, I had rather be 
excused attacking so large a volume. 

Kal Large ! heaven forbid a free public should 
ever countenance any abridgment of their common 
rights ! no, no ; here's the passage shall explain this 
my Leryj 

Ediv. It isn't long I hope, sir ? 

Kal. Silence I (reads) * By virtue'of one of our forest 
charters, if a man do build a dwelling upon common 
land, from sun-set to sun-rise, and inclose a piece of 
ground, wherein there shall be a tree growing, a beast 
feeding, a fire kindled, a chimney smoaking, and provi- 
sion in the pot, such dwelling shall be freely held by 
the builder, any thing herein to the contrary, neverthe- 
less notwithstanding. 
Edw. But how ? 

Kal Dont interrupt me; I've bargain'd for the wood- 
en billiard-room at the Crown. We'll cany it to the 
forest, build a chimney at one end of it, plant a tree 
from my garden, and to-morrow shall make a freeholder 
of you. 

Edw. Sir, your zeal for my service makes you forget, 
that, when the means are unworthy of the end — 

Kal. That we ought to stop in the middle? psha! 
there are spots in the sun ; and when we can't snow 
■white, we must snow brown. Look at that team : (takes 
him to window) there go three parts of your mansion, 
upon four wheels. Your star is in its altitude. I've 
hired Charles' wain to carry your house and sietfortuna 
dornus. 

Edw. Yet, ere we go further — 
Kal. We must buy a cow and a kitchen range. 
Edw But when mr. Flail comes to know — 
Kal. That you've got a good fire and a piece of beef, 
he'll give you something to make the pot boil. 
Edw* Your plan is romantic. 

Kal. If it was not I'd have nothing to do with it : the 
times are romantic, and I always accord with the seasons, 
from one year's end to another. 
Edw. Always ? 



1 



act in] THE FINGER-POST 33 

Kal. Yes; I bring in the new-year, and eat twelfth- 
night cake in January ; write valentines in February, 
March, in procession with st. David, and dine with the 
sons of st. Patrick ; make fools in April ; dance with the 
chimney-sweepers in May; drink the king's health in 
June ; and take the longest day to pay my bills. Jump 
into ocean in July ; cut my corn in August ; go hopping 
and popping in September ; brew in October; chair 
Guy Faux, and my lord mayor in November; while,, 
in December, roast beef, plumb pudding, old port, 
blindman's buff, romps, riddles, and kissing the pretty 
girls under tne misletoes ; wind up our Christinas gam- 
bols, and set us all agog to begin the new year again. 

[exeunt 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



ACT III. 

scene, an apartment at squire Falils. 
enter Robert and luckless. 

Rob. Who, sir, shall T. say wants master ? 

Luck. Mr. Lawrence Luckless from 

Rob. Yes, sir; mr. Lucky Lawrence, from— —from 
where did you say, sir ? 

Luck, (giving a newspaper) Here, that will do instead 
of a card ; say its the gentleman described in that paper. 

Rob. Gemieman ! 1 must tell him that or he wont 
find it out I fear. [aside and exit 

Luck. With my usual good fortune, 1 lost my friend 
Edward as soon as I found him ; forgot what he told me 
about the finger-post, and have come some miles out of 



34 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdiw 

way. I believe what one finds on the highway is one's 
own, and, I'm not a little obliged to the owner of this 
coat for leaving it where he died; it hides my shabby 
habiliments, and gives me so much the air of a horse- 
dealer, that I look quite like a man of fashion in it. 

enter flail zvith the paper. 

Flail. Servant, sir; a well looking lad. (aside) Glad 
to see you, and as you are brought here by this promise, 
'(showing paper) dare say you're not sorry to see me. 

Luck. Nor yet a little impatient to hear you, sir, on 
the subject of that promise. 

Flail. I'll satisfy you directly ; sit down and tell your 
history. 

Luck: Nay, sir, tis T who came to listen. 

Flail. Indeed ! and how am 1 to know whether you 
are the person here meant ? 

Luck Sir, I am the sou of a mother who died soon af- 
ter 1 was born— of a father who never owo'd me ; and 
have been left to a guardian, who, between friends is 
one of the greatest — 

Flail. Hush ! you dont know who you are abusing. 

Luck. I was so pointed at by the village boys as the 
child of nobody, that I quitted the place of my birth, 
was overtaken by my guardian, whom 1 have never seen 
since, and sent to a cheap school at a great distance. 

Flail So far so good. 
__Luck. Perhaps not ; the schoolmaster was extravagant- 
ly fond of boxing and rural sports, and paid me so much 
attention, that I was quickly grounded in the elements 
of Walton's Angler— could knockdown any boy in the 
first form -and never underwent even the correction of 
a fishing-rod. 

Flail Nay, if -you run away from your story' 

Luck. It will be exactly what I did from my school; 
where as soon as I could beat the master at his own les- 
sons, he beat me in return ; I fled to the cottage, where 
jnr. Edward Frankland, a former play-fellow, was at his 
studies ; and my guardian forgave me, because the 



'fc 



act in] THE FINGER-POST 35 

schoolmaster dare not demand his money, and because 
I got the rest of my education for nothing. 
Flail. With Edward Frankland ? 
Luck. As an humble companion, we exchanged our 
mutual accomplishments; and though I may not be so 
good a classic as he wishtto make me, yet it is my pride 
to say, that I taught him to tickle a trout in a stream, or 
put in a belcher at a boxing match with any man on 
globe. . 

Flail. You next went 'prentice ? 
Luck. To one who detested latin, and hated boxing, 
so I ran away again from the prejudice of education, and 
have been left to my own resources, till your public invi- 
vitation procured me the honor of this private audience. 
Flail. Your story proves you the right person : now 
hear mine. 

Luck. lam quite satisfied of your identity, and would 
rather be told of what relates to myself. 

Flail. Listen, sir. A careful middle aged man, who 
had been uncommonly severe on the faults of others, 
committed one himself. 

Luck. That I haven't the least doubt off. 
Flail. The partner of his folly died, and left a son : the 
father, fearing to offend a patron on whom he then de- 
pended, pass'u for the guardian of this boy, whom he 
brought up to bustle with the world ; — the patron is 
dead— the father is rich— and \ou— you are the son and 
heir. 
Luck, His son ? son to old Sordid ! 
Flail. You are not ashamed of a rich father ? 
Luck. Ashamed? no, but you are not joking, are you? 
Flail. Joking! 

Luck. I have heard him so spoken of, that — that as he 
is my father, I must forget it. I have not been used to 
the name of father, but I know my duty— and— I never 
shali be able to thrash half the people that I have heard 
abuse him. 
Flail. Well, but he has offer'd you as my son-in law. 
Luck-, I heard that before I knew who I was. 



36 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t.dibdin 

Flail. And as you have given a true account of your- 
self, perhaps I don't like you the worse for it. 

Luck. $ut as to being your son-in-law, Sir, I have a 
friend who must be consulted. 

Flail. Aye, you mean Edward, I suppose. 

Luck. He would furnish a reason against it : but I 
have another— my wife might possibly have some ob- 
jection. 

Flail. Married ! 

Luck. Yes ; I can't say she's much of a wife, being 
hardly higher than your cane, but her's is an engage- 
ment I never intend to run away from. 

Flail. And where is she ? 

Luck. Ten miles off only — at a little inn, where she 
waits the intelligence my visit seemed to promise. 

Flail. And what do you mean to do ? 

Luck. Why the best thing I can do will be to 

what do you think ? 

Flail. Umph !— My advice will be soon given — Ro- 
bert, (enter Rob.) saddle my daughter's horse and 
mine, (exit Rob. You shall fetch your wife, and meet 
your father. — You'll eat and drink first ? 

Luck. I have little appetite. 

Flail. Why ? 

Luck. Because I have fasted nearly the whole day : 
and a pleasant change is so new to me, that though I 
have always kept my spirits when in trouble, they seem 
to think now I have no further occasion for them. 

Flail. Oh ! well ; a good glass of wine will bring 
you up again. 

Luck. Perhaps it may. — I thought good luck was 
coming when I found this coat ; and now I have found 
this father of mine. 

Flail. Speak of him with respect. — No son shall for- 
get his duty in my presence. 

Luck. Aye, Sir ; but when a parent has taken so lit- 
tle pains to make other folks speak well of him 



act in] THE FINGER-POST 3? 

Flail. He has the more need to be defended by his 
children. [exeunt 



scene, Kalendar's study, as before, 

jenny, (passing from the closet.) 

Jenny. Its mortal cruel of John Spriggins to let me 
stay here so long. — Nobody seems to be in the way ; 
so, I'll go, without even saying good bye to him. — 
I'll be hang'd if here isn't mrs. Prudence, old master's 
cousin. — If she catches me here, it will be as much as 
my plan is worth. — I'll be bound she comes to find me 
out. — What a mean thing it is for people to be so cu- 
rious. — I'll hide again, and try if I can't overhear what 
she wants, (returns into the closet J 

enter mrs. prudence. 

Mrs. P. Why the house is quite deserted. — I'm sure 
I traced that hussey Jane to the door ; and whether she 
comes to see John Spriggins, or to consult mr. Kalen- 
dar, I'm determined to discover. — I hope its John ; 

for, if she dare have any design on his master its 

a shame for young women to be trying to decoy men 

who bless me, here's mr. Kalendar, and I don't 

think I ever look'd so shocking in all my life, {runs to 
a glass and adjusts herself) 

enter kalendar. 

Kal. The work goes bravely forward — bricklayer., 
carpenter, painter, glazier, and gardener, all busy ; 
and I'll bet Herschell's telescope to an opera glass, that 
our plan will be accomplished within time. — Ah, mrs. 
Prudence, this is an honor. 

Mrs. P. {simpering) Do you really think so, sir ? 

Kal. Any particular commands ?— came home in a 
hurry to electrify the gouty tax gatherer, and must be 
off again directly. 

7) 



S3 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [Dibdin 

Mrs. P. I shan't detain you, sir. — I neither want 
my fortune told, nor my nativity cast. 

Kdl. Cou'dn't do that if you did. — Ladies must tell 
their age, you know. 

Mrs. P. You have been taken in then. {Jenny peeps 
out-, mrs. P. sees her) 

Kal. Oh, yes; the dear deceivers have played me a 
thousand tricks 

Mrs. P. {eyeing the closet) Indeed ! I thought as 
much. 

Kal. Yes : there was your neighbor, mrs. Wizen- 
face, came here t'other day. 

Mrs. P. {still watching the closet) An impudent 
hussey. 

Kal. No, not impudent, but as fine as a rainbow, and 
as crooked, into the bargain : — she gave me a wrong 
age, and I prophesied all the good things that have 
since happened to her grand daughter. 
Mrs. P. Its a great shame. 

Kal. But what can I do ? — I don't know how to dis- 
pose of half the females who come to me. 

Mrs. P. No ! — have you no convenient room, mr. 
Ka'.endar, you could contrive to put a lady into? 

Kal. Oh, mrs. Prudence ; fie, for shame ! why you 
wou'dn't think of such a thing ; would you ? 

Mrs. P. {bridling) Me! no, sir ; but there are some 
whom you might lock up, with their own consent too. 
Kal. I keep no key for any such purpose ; my clo- 
sets are ail full of curiosities of every age ; 3nd I 
wou'dn't put a woman among 'em for the world. 

Mrs. P. {significantly) Is there no curiosity in that 
closet ? 

Kal. A great many:— it contains all the rarities of 
the seventeenth century ! from the time cauliflowers 
were first planted in England, trunk hose gave way to 
modern inexpressibles, judges began to wear wigs, and 
Peter the great went prentice to a ship carpenter. 



Act III] THE FINGER-POST &9 

Mrs. P. And, pray, when were invisible girls in- 
vented r 

Kal. In the reign of queen Elizabeth, you could on- 
ly see a lady from Forehead to her chin ; but now no- 
thing is invisible but the petticoats. 

Mrs. P. Weil, sir, you may talk as you please; but 

I say 

enter a boy. 

Boy. — Sir, master can't get out of his gouty chair; 
and wants to speak to you at the door. 

Kal. That's lucky ; I shall the sooner get back to 
my job in the forest, {aside) Excuse me mrs. Prue.— 
Go along Dickey, {exit boy) I'll follow. 

Mrs. P. But, sir, I must say one word. 

Kal. I'll be back directly, but can't stop long : in 
the mean time, perhaps you may take a peep at the 
^. planets; or, if you'd like to see my new conductor, 

you may step up to the top of the house, and treat 
yourself with a flash of lightning : and when I'm less 
busy, I'll show you every natural curiosity in my 
whole collection. [exit Kal, 

Mrs. P. I'll make bold to see one of 'em novv.~ No, 
no, I'll take no peep at the planets — my discoveries 
shall be of more importance, — But stop— the hussey 
wi;l deny she came to him, though its*plain enough 
why he wanted me out of the way : — he said he'd re- 
y turn — so, I'll just hide behind this curtain. — When he 

thinks me absent, miss will be let out ;— but I'll stop 
their tete a tete, I warrant, {goes into the recess-) where 
Kalendar had put his electrical chair) 

re-enter kalendmi. 

Kal. So! — one plague's got rid of; — and now to 
send off the other. — Eh ! gone ! — I didn't see her come 
out ; but I suppose she siipt by, when I was talking 
to the old gentleman. 



40 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [Dibdiu 

Jenny. (<who has come out during this speech) Which 
way did she go, sir ? 

Kal. Mercy on us ! which way did you come ? 

Jenny. Dear, dear, sir, I be so frightened. — I came, 
sir, by way of /^suiting your knowledge about poor 
young missus ; and, when the old woman catch'd I in 
the cupboard there, I — dear— dear — I be so frighten- 
ed.— 

Kal. In the cupboard ! — oh ! — why, then, the old 
Jezebel meant something. — I cou'dn't think what she 
was at, ogling me with her northern lights. — Well, sit 
down, Jenny, I can spare a moment to talk to you.— 
Sit down, and recover yourself.— You're a good girl ; 
and I should be happy to give you some little proof of 
my regard. 

Mrs. P. {from the recess) Oh ! oh ! {in a half sup- 
pressed 'voice) 

Jenny. What's that ! — bless me, I be so frightened. 

Kal. Something wrong in my machinery. — Stay, as 
old Gouty won't be electrified to day, I may as well 
let off this machine : its full charg'd, and may do mis- 
chief else, {goes to the machine) 

Jenny. Oh, dear, sir, don't ye go to touch that ; 
for John Spriggins do tell I it will raise the devil. 

Kal. We'll soon see that, — 

Jenny. Do 9 let I get out of the way then, {runs to 
the other side) 

Kal. There you foolish girl, {turns the handle, mrs. 
Prue screams, and jumps out of the recess. Jenny falls 
on her knees. Kalendar is astonished.) 

Kal. [after a pause) Talk of the devil !— who ex- 
pected you there? 

Jenny. I never was so frightened in all my life. 

Mrs. P. I never was so shocked in all my life. 

Kal. I dare say not. — Egad, I must have tickled her. 

Mrs. />. You — tickle me ! sir — I am so angry, s© 
choaked with passion 



V 



Act III] THE FINGER-POST 4i 

Kal. That you seem quite electrified. 

Jenny. Indeed, dear madam — I — 

Mrs. P. Out of my sight, you hussey !— 

Jenny. Oh ! I wish he'd stuff her into one of his 
great telegraphs. , [exit. 

Mrs. P. This is the gouty tax gatherer you came 
to, sir. 

Kal. No, it isn't. 

Mrs. P. What business had she in that closet ? 

Kal. To see what you were doing in that corner. 

Mrs. P. But my cousin shall know, and she shall 
leave the house directly. 

Kal. You're welcome to do the same; and next time 
you come here to make experiments, take care you 
don't get another curtain lecture. 

Mrs. P. Sir, if you had a single spark of good breed- 
ing 

Kal. If I had, I'd recommend him to you directly — 
but you have extinguished all my sparks, and I wish 
you much benefit from the operation. 

Mrs. P. I'll see the young hussey punished, that I 
Will, [exit. 

Kal. And I'll see the old woman safe out of the house. 
Egad, if every time I turn this handle, it produces 
such a sudden squali as it did just now, it will be un- 
safe to touch it : what between the old woman in the 
recess, and the young one in the closet, I was com- 
pletely galvanised ! [exiu 

scene, the entrance of a rustic inn. 
enter LAURA luckless, from the house. 
Laura. No, I can see nothing of him.-— I wish I had 
gone with him : what a misfortune it is to have a hus- 
band that's always unlucky. — I dare say this fine pro- 
mise in the newspapers, was only a trick, and he'll 
<?ome back so cross ! heigh ho ! what a hurry I was 

D 2 



42 £IVE MILES OFF, OR [Dibdin 

once in to get married ; and now we have so many 
troubles, vexations and quarrels ! — o lud ! o lud ! 
marriage without money isn't half so pleasant as the 
days of courtship. 

SONG. — LAURA. — (adapted to an old air.) 

The haw h >'n w.i, blowing, young flow'rets were gay, 

Primroses we:e «rowin°, birds sung on each spiay, 

Bui sweeter sung my .rue love. f.:r sv. eeter to my ear, 

' J'm waiting here tor you iove, 'us the spring time of the year.' 

In summer I yielded, my li ve's bride to be made, 
But js leaves droop 'n autumn, our joys too will fade, 
Fi r ove with ut riches is chul'd b\ the host, 
And ere winter, a a^ ! ab my pleasures were lost. 

enter sordid. 

Sord. Bless my heart ! bless my heart! five miles! 
why I do think I've traveli'd fifteen, and this is the 
first house I've met with ; — I can't have much farther 
to go. Oh ! there's a female, — young woman ! 

Laura. Young woman ! 

Sord. Well then, miss. 

Laura. Sir, I'm married. 

Sord. Why then, madam, do tell me how far it is 
to Harvest Hall. 

Laura. Its ten miles, sir, — and long ones too, if I 
may measure by the absence of my husband. 

Sord. Ten miles ! it was only five, three hours ago. 

Laura* Which way did you come, sir ? 

Sard. I came by the post. 

Laura. Then perhaps you have been mis-sent by a 
wrong direction. 

Sord. Mis-sent ! so I've walk'd off my legs, broke 
my appointment with old Fiail ; risk'd some of my 
property ; lost the rest, — and here comes the very man 
that robb'd me of it. 

Laura. Oh there he is ! my dear, dear fellow — I'll 
fly to meet him — I'm sure he's been lucky, for he's got 
a new coat already. [exit- 






Act 111] THE FINGER-POST 43 

Sord. Oh ho ! she's a confederate — I'll get assist- 
ance from the house, recover my loss, get forty pounds 
for apprehending a highwayman, and that hussey's 
dear fellow shall be hanged. [exit into the house 

enter luckless and laura. 

Luck, to Robert. Give the horses a full feed, my lad, 
and we'll be back to your masters directly. Well ! 
my dear little Laura ! 

Laura, Well, Laurence — do tell me all. 

Luck. Directly ; I guess your impatience, and — did 
they give you any dinner in this devil of a dog hole ? 

Laura. If they had, I cou'dn't have eat it for anxi- 
ety. — Well, you went to the hall, and found — 

Luck. An old friend, a new coat, and a father I 

Laura. A father ! 

Luck. Aye, and a rich one too, you little rogue. 

Laura. A rich one ! well, I don't know how it 
was, but it always would run in my head, that you 
must have had a father, though you never found him 
out. 

sordid enters from the house <witb landlord, black 
bob, and countrymen, smoaking, &c. 

Luck. But I've found him out now, and a curious 
one he is too ; when I ask his blessing, I dare say the 
first think he'll say, will be 

Sordid, (coming for ward) Knock him down. That's 
the fellow that robb'd me. (they seize Luckless) 

Black Bob. (aside) That's my coat, sure enough— 

~Luck. Scoundrels ! I never saw that man in my life. 

haura. My husband accused of robbery ! 

Sord. Search him — I'll swear to my money, its all 
mark'd. 

Black Bob. (comes forward) Mark'd—why any bo- 
dy may mark money ; may be you'll swear to that. 
•{jhows a piece of gold) 

D3 



44 FIVE MILES OFF, OF [Dibdin 

Sord. That — why, I will swear that he, — no, — that 
— *hat piece of gold 

Landlord. That old gentleman's crazy ! 

Sord. Crazy ? — don't let him go — for Til swear to 
the man by the coat — 

"Luck. The coat ! sir, I pick'd this coat up on the 
highway. 

Sord. I dare say you did. 

Luck And when I found this hanging on a post — 

Sord. You little thought of being hang'd yourself: 
bring him along. 

Laura. Pray don't, he's innocent. 

Black Bob. May hap he is. — A man is not to be found 
guilty by outside appearance. I knows somewhat of 
law. What's a coat ? — a coat isn't a man. — There, 
I'll put it on ; and what of that ? 

Sord. Why, then, if it was the last word I had to 
say, I'd swear that you are the man that did rob me. 

Landlord and countrymen. Oh, shame! shame! 

Laura. Shame, indeed ! — that wicked old man will 
swear to any thing. 

Luck. Harkye, sir. 

Sord. Seize him, I charge you. 

Black Bob. Would you like to try trie coat, miss ; 
perhaps he'll say 'twas you. 

Sord. He robb'd me close by a finger post', where 
four roads meet. 

Countryman. Then the finger post must have grown 
there since morning.— -That old fellow tells nothing but 
flams. 

Luck. To be cali'd a thief! I insist on carrying him 
to mr. Flail's. 

Sord. The place I'm going to — only mind you d* 
carry me — for I'll not walk another step — and as we 
go, I'll show you the very spot where I was robb'd — 
and take my money out of the hank by the road side. 
{apart^ 

Inick. Are the horses ready I 



V 



Act ///] THE FINGER-POST 45 

Rob. All ready, sir. 

Black Bob. Well, then, as nobody seems to own 
this coat, perhaps, I have as much right to it as ano- 
ther. \ 

Sord. Stop, sir: no running away, (seizes him\ 

Luck. Aye ! I insist on our all going, and haVtfg 
this cleared up. 

Sord. I'm in custody — mind that — and I'll bring a 
swinging action for false imprisonment. 

Luck. Come, then, we shall have justice at the hall ; 
and then I shall have an action against you for charg- 
ing Laurence Luckless with felony. 

Sord. Who ! — what, are you 

Luck. Don't talk to me, sir — you've said too much 
already. 

Sord. But my dear boy — my — 

Luck. Put him on the squire's horse. — Come, Laura. 

[exeunt Luckless and Laura 

Sord. Gentlemen ! — only hear me — call him back ; 
for I do believe that unnatural bird, that ungracious 
varlet, is neither more nor less than my own son ! 

Countryman. Oh, dear — oh, dear — he be quite mad 
— bring him along.' [exeunt 



scene — the cross roads and finger post, with the addi- 
tion of a neat wooden house, with a brick chimney, a 
lamb grazing within the pales that surround it. 

When the scene is discovered, a great knocking is heard, 
as if within the house — a bricklayer is fixing the chim- 
ney-pot — spriggins, on a ladder, is nailing a cherry 
tree against one side of the building — FLOURISH is 
painting the pales — o'gimlet is hanging a little gate 
to them — and kalendar is looking out of the window. 

Kal. Well done, boys •, work away outside, while 
we finish within, and I'll be with you directly, (retires 
from the window) 

d4 



46 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [Dibdin 

O c Cim. I say, mr. Flourish. 

Flou. Weil, friend. 

O i Gim. Don't be twiddling there about nothing; 
but bring one of your fists here, with a pound brush 
in it. 

Ftou. I will not come at thy bidding : nor will I cease 
twiddling until I see occasion. 

O'Gim. Oh, mighty well ! — the thing's all done to 
your hands : and if you won't finish it, its no fault of 
mine. 

Sprig, (coming down) Never saw a better bit of gar- 
dener's work since I was born. 

Flou. Yea ; the dwelling is most neatly coloured. 

O^Gim. Its tke prettiest timbered edifice within five 
miles, let who will be next door to it. 

Sprig. Oh, talk of beauty, my tree against your 
house for what you like. 

Flou. Thy tree has spoil'd my paint, which will al- 
so spoil thy planting. 

enter KALENDAR from house, (smoke rises from the 

chimney.) J| 

Kal. There ! all ready, inside and out ; old Marge- 
ry's blowing the fire ; Edward's gone to ask for his 
wife ; and there only wants a sun dial on the door post, 
a weather glass against the wainscoat, and an almanac 
behind the door to complete the furniture. 

enter bricklayer. 

Brick. Neat bit of brick work, that there chimney, 
— my master- -devilish well — it smokes — its a pity the 
wails an't brick too. 

Kal. No pity at all : an english freeholder's house is 
his castle, and wooden walls are a devilish good pro- 
tection. — Eh ! why that post points wrong. 

O^Gim. That's impossible, when it points to every 
road in the place— its painted w r rong, honey. 

FJsu. The fault is in the top, which moveth. 



Act HI] THE FINGER-POST 47 

O^Gim. Not at all ; I knock'd a great nail in it awhile 
ago, to keep it where it is. 

Kal. Well, away with you ; drink long life to the 
new landlord, for here he comes, huzza 

(they shout as ED ward enters with flail — the quaker 
shouts in a formal manner— the workmen go off,) 

Flail. Hey day i whose dwelling's this, I wonder ! 
is this what you mean to say is your's ? 

Kal. All his ;— house, goods, chattels, and live stock 
— cattle grazing, tree growing, and chimney smoking — 

Sprig. And if your worship pleases to come in, you 
shall see me lay the cloth. [exit into house 

Ed<u>. You see, sir, I have not deceived you— our 
common friend has enabled me to claim your promise. 

Flail. And do you mean to claim it on such grounds ? 

Kal. Such grounds would make a beautiful figure in 
an auctioneer's catalogue ; four prospects at one view 
— spacious enclosure— one head of live lamb, and a 
garden full of wall fruit ; and do you think he means 
to have all this trouble and expense for nothing ? 

Edw. At least, sir, I hope you will not give Mary 
to my rival ? 

Flail. Why, no ; I wont for two reasons ; in the 
first place, he's married already ; in the next, if you 

give proof of continuing so industrious, I 

Kal. Why, who the devil have we here, I wonder ? 

enter sordid and countrymen — he runs to flail, and 
stares about him while he shakes hands. 

Sord. My dear old friend—you'll bear me speak I'm 
sure— I've been so used, that — why this can't be the 
place where I hid my money, (aside) 

Flail. I don't wonder at your gazing about — I can 
hardly believe my own eyes. 

Kal. (to Edward) There's Mary, run and meet her. 

[exit Edw. 



1^ 



48 



FIVE MILES OFF, OR 



Wibditi 



enter luckless and laura. 

"Luck, (to Flail) Ah, sir, we've met half way ; — here 
is the lady of whom I told you — and there is a crazy 
old man who accuses me of robbing him. (pointing to 
sordid, who is searching and peeping about for his 
money.) 

Flail. Shall I never teach youth to be respectful ; 
that cnzy old man is your father. 

Luck. Found at last, and in this place too ? 

Sord. Found, is it found f where is it ? give it me 
directly. 

Flail. Why that's your son, and that's his wife. 

Kal. And that seems to be the long and the short 
of it. 

Sord. I said it was my son — but married ' do come 
this way ? (Flail, Sordid, Luckless and Laura go up 
the stage) 

enter spRIGGins, with a dirty bundle from the house # 

Sprig, (to Kalendar) Here be a dirty bundle in a 
black handkerchief, kicking about among the rubbish 
— it do chink as th'of 'twere money. 

Sord. Give it me— its mine — its — 

Kal. (snatching it) No, its not your's ; whatever is 
found in that house belongs to its owner. Here Ed- 
ward, (Edward re-enters with Mary) you're lord of 
the manor; perhaps this is a prize for you. (Gives him 
the bundle-— Mary goes to her father — fenny enters and 
runs to Spriggins, who in dumb show, points to the new 
house, &c.) 

Sord. A prize indeed tis mine — tis money, mort- 
gages, and above all there are the writings and titles 
of his father's estate. 

Kal And where have the title deeds of a deceased 
father, a better right to be than in the hands of his 
son ? they were found under his roof 



Ait III\ THE FINGER-POST. 

Sord They were under no roof — when I buried 
them {aside) 

Luck Father seems to have brought a pretty ho; 
over his head 

Ed-zu Take your money, sir; these papers must be 
examined elsewhere 

Flail So, so ; he'll get his estate back {aside) Why 
Mary, what do you hang on me for I I know you'd 
rather take his arm by half; go 

Mary I obey you, sir, with pleasure 

Flail To be sure — see how I bring up my children 

Kal. Ah you always said she was a good girl 

Sprig {to jmny And what do you hang upon J for ? 

Jenny I hanging on you : why I'll be whipt it" he 
hasn't been a sweet hearting o' me as hard as ever he 
could ever since I came into the place 

Kal Come, let's into our new dwelling, and try to 
compromise. 

Sord But what's to be done with the m^.n who 
robb'd me ? 

Flail Done with him ? take hira to the village and 
lock him up : I'll make him leave off his roguish 
habits 

Luck And when he does leave off his habits, don't 
let it be w r here I may pick them up again 

Edw Among these papers is oue of no pecuniary 
worth, but to me a prize above them all 

Sord You may keep that — its of no use but to the 
owner {aside) 

Ed<iu It contains the blessing and forgiveness of my 
father ; and could you have withheld — 

K«/ No ; I hope nobody here would wish to with- 
hold forgiveness ; and though our edifice be formed of 
slight materials, yet, as it is only intended for a Sum- 
mer house, we entreat our lords and ladies of the 
Man»r t® allow it Right of Common 

PNS ©F FINGER-P©ST.' 



■a^^B-^i 



EPILOGUE. 

WRITTEN BY G COLMAN, ESft, 

CHARACTERS. 
Kaiendar, Flourish^ 6'piiggins, Jenny. 

enter KALENDAR, (reading an almanack.) 



Kal. ALMANACK says, this day — aye thus it goes : 
" Seventh of July — Thomas a Becket — toes " 
fi The weather overcast " — That sounds but queer; 
I hope to find no cloudy faces here ! 
What next ? — oh to this market no dismay ; — 
" Fine weather now for getting up the hay " 
Box keeper, here makes hay, when in he crams 
Arms, bhouiders, ancles, hips, knees, legs and hams : 
But when he stuffs you in, all snug and warm, 
O ! vox stellarum — who can then inform 
Whether 'twill turn to sunshine or a storm 
Of this night's cause who shall be undertaker ? 
Our poet trembles 

enter flourish. 

Flow. He hath sent a quaker. 

Kal. What is it you predict about our play ? 

Think you 'twill prosper ? 
Flou Paradventure, yea. 

Kal. Sometimes they clap, and that betokens bliss 
Flou Sometimes the spirit moveth, and they hiss. 
Kal. Have you no friends above there ? \to gallery) 
Flou Thou dost scoff 

Kal. Why so ? 
■Flou Thou know'st they cali out there — '« hats off," 



EPILOGUE 

enter spriggins and jenny. 

Kal. Spriggins ! my man —you're here, I'll hold a 

guinea, 
To serve the play- 



Sprig. Ize here, and married Jenny. 

Jenny. Beneath which sign, sir, is my husband born ? 
Kal Like many husbands— under Capricorn 
Sprig. Under what sign, then, do the sky make her go ? 
• Kal. The crab. 
Sprit?. There, Jane, I know'd it wasn t Wirgo. 

1 said so. 
Jenny Hold your prate, then, foolish— do ; 

Your master's wise, and know'd it afore you. 
Kal. Now for the bird;— a thought his telescope, 

May no malignant planet damp his hope 

M iv no eclipses make his prospect black 
Sprir'. Nor no bad sign in all his Zodywack. 
Kal. With mirth, may eyes, like stars be twinkling 
merrily 

Friend Flourish, don't you join in this ? 

Flou. Yea ' vcn1 ^ 

Sprit?. I wish him right good luck, now, by my figgins I 
Jenny. And happy as a bride, like Jenny Spriggins. 
Kal. Come then, {to the audience) you, Libra, or the 
Balance hold ; 
Applaud him, and he'll feel like Leo bold ; 
If you condemn— for fortune is precarious— 
His eyes must then be govern'd by Aquarius. 



LrsT of PLAYS, published by d. lovgworth, 
at the Dramatic Repository, near the Theatre. 
N. B. Lcjig-voitu s. edition of Plavs, which is contin- 
ually iudreasiag/is of unitorm size, and to those who 
may chudm- to have them bound, general titles will be 
given gratis. 



BLUE BE\RD. m d. r. Colman.jr 

Ahaeiiino, the Greai Bandit, g« d. r. (tram ) Dunlap 

Feudal Baron, t. 

Taie of mystery, m. d. 

Tournament, t 

Voice of Nature, c. 

Mrs Wiggins, f. 

Maid of Bristol, c. 

Chains of the heart, c o. 

House to be sold, c o. 

Marnasje Promise, c. 

\\a<< of Windsor, c. o. 

Raiding t he Uinrl, f. 

Wife of two hu bands, d. 

Guilt v or not Guilt} , c. 

Soidiei's Daughter, c. 

Adelmorn, r d. 

Poor S 1 iiei, c. o. 

Huntn of the A'ps, c. o. 

Sl)i))wreck, c o. 

Hoiev Moon, c. 

Sprigs of Laurel, c o. 

Children in the wood c. o. 

Richard I'f. t. (from Shakspeare) 

P. id! i k, c. o 

Prizes or I, j, 3, 8, C O. 

Hamlet, t. 

Venice Preserved, T. 

Who want- a guinea, c. 

H >te! f 

Fair Penitent, t 

Matrimuin, c. 0. 



25 
31 



Dunlap 


25 


Holcrojt 


18 


St a) ke 


25 


Dunlap 


25 


Allingham 


12 


Boa den 


25 


Hoare 


31 


Cobb 


IS 


Adihgham 


25 


Caiman, jr. 


18 


Kenney 


18 


Dunlap 


31 


Dibdin 


31 


Cherry 


31 


Leivis 


31 


O'Keefe 


12 


Dimond,jr 


12 


Arnold 


18 


Tob/'n 


31 


O'Keeffe 


18 


Morton 


12 


Obher 


31 


Bickerstaffe 


12 


Hoare 


12 


Shak peare 


31 


Otxvay 


25 


Co/man. jr 


31 


Jej)hsou 


12 


R 'lie 


25 


Kenney 


12 



LIST OK PLAYS. 



i 



II Bondocani, c. o. 

B iud Liar gain, c. 

Fir&t Floor, v 

"loo maii> cuokS, c o. 

Famil) Quarrels, c. o. 

Will for the deed, C 

Venetian Outlaw, d. (trans.) 

Spoii'd Child, c. o. 

Valentine and Orson, M r d. 

S uIof's Daughter, c 

Piccolomini, h. d. (from Schiller) 

'I empest, c. 

Duenna, c. o. 

Cheap living, c. 

Cabinet, c o. 

Quaker, c o 

Aiy grandmother, c. o. 

\\ auclerer, c 

\\ a\s and means c. 

Blue Beard, m. d r. {second edition) 

John Bull, c. 

R "up, c o 

C iravan, r d. 

Del iKjihiit, c. 

"\\ eathe cock, c. o. 

Lock and ke\ , c. o. 

Sc.ioo! for friends, c. 

Honest thieves, f. 

Antdrno, t 

Chjld of Nature, c. 

Paul and Virginia, m. E. 

S hool for Arrogance, c. 

Inkle and Yarico, c. o. 

M "uutainetrs, c. o. 

V\ il i oat-, c 

Road to ruin, c. 
Revenge, t. 



Dihdin \t 

Rtyn >lds 25 

Cobb 18 

Keimey 12 

D-bdni 25 

J Jib tin 18 

Eliiston 25 

Home 12 

Dibdin 12 

Cumberland 25 

Coleridge 56 

Shitkspeare ?l 

Slieiidan 31 

Reynolds 25 

Dibdin 25 

Dibdin, sen. 12 

Hoare 12 

a gentleman of j\ . Y 37 

Cotm>m,jr. 25 

Col/nan, jr ' $ 

Colman,jr >l 

Bicker si.ajfe 12 

Reynolds 1 2 

Reynolds 25 

J*()n»hum 12 

Hot ne 18 

Chambers 3 1 

Knight 1 2 

Godwin 25 

J if hb ltd 19 

Cobb 12 

E f croft 31 

C>iman,jr. 25 

Co man jr 25 

Ketffe 31 

II dcrofi 25 

Young 25. 



L 



^ngs in Glory of Cot 
fOf Age lorn >rn»w e 
iVlore Ways lhan on**, 
LoJjlaugh atlockMnii 
C< m -ntrv Girl, c (alu 
D-ugias t 
Rule a vuf- and have a 

ingi-r Post 
Deserted Daughi< 



LIST OF 

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



\ 




if 



a 




PR 45^ 
J5F5 



UBRARY OF CONGRESS 




0U490 062 5 



